


Drunk in Love

by DeltaRaeRunAway



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Olympics RPF
Genre: F/M, Stars on Ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1455001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeltaRaeRunAway/pseuds/DeltaRaeRunAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still floating on cloud nine from their Olympic successes, Meryl and Charlie stop in Hershey, PA along with the rest of the Stars on Ice cast and experience a day of leisure. Additionally, Charlie becomes intoxicated without any involvement of alcohol. Turns out Meryl is his own personal glass of watermelon. (Oh no, did he just reference that forsaken song? He really had to introduce her to some classic rock, if she insisted on the mainstream stuff. He didn't know if he could take any more of this Beyoncé person [who was she?!] in his and Meryl's personal life.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk in Love

"Stars on ice, stars on ice; feeling like an animal with these cameras all in my grill. Flashing lights, flashing lights—“

“Davis, for the love of all that is good and holy would you please stop singing those lines over and over again!”

She giggled, but settled for humming the melody of Beyoncé’s latest single. It always killed Charlie that she listened avidly to rap. It’s not that girls can’t like rapping, no, nothing sexist like that, but Meryl was like a porcelain doll and the whole concept of rap is to shatter, right? How was she not too fragile to blast the rap that she loved and come out unscathed? It killed him, just killed him. Here he was, with an iPod full of classical music and his elegant ice-dancing partner most often compared to a Disney princess, spitting out poorly phrased rhymes like she were Nicki Minaj herself.

It killed him, but in a good way. He loved it, sure; it provided endless ammunition for teasing, but she’d been singing (trying to sing) this variation of ‘Drunk in Love’ ever since the cast of Stars on Ice had gotten together for their first rehearsal and found it amusing to no end. It also gave her an excuse to brag, thinking she was *so* *clever* for having come up with this little play on words. He’d given it to her the first time she’d given voice to the lyric, but by the second week of the tour, he was ready write an angry letter to Queen Bey herself with just a hint of petulance in regards to her coming out with a song containing the line ‘cigars on ice’. Probably the Grammy winning songstress didn’t have Meryl Davis’ antics in mind when she dropped the single, but still. This was ridiculous. (Albeit really, really cute. But annoying, nevertheless.)

“I am not above ‘accidentally’ dropping you during one of our lifts, Mer,” Charlie joked, taking her hand to show that he wasn’t serious. She shooed him away, gesturing that she’d like to take a few laps around the rink as a breather. He knew that he was welcome to join her, but not too close. She needed space. They’d gotten pretty good at reading each other’s minds over the years, and their ability to communicate without words only supported this.

They fell into their comfortable rhythm; even when skating apart they took the same smooth steps, glided for the same duration of time. It was about 6 hours before the show that night in Hershey, Pennsylvania, and even though she’d been advised to take it easy and lap up all of the post-Olympic glory, she’d itched to get back on the ice, so here they were.

“You wouldn’t do that, and you know it. Besides, you love my singing! Remember, you said so, that one time, remember?”

“OK, first of all, have you not learned to take everything that I say with a grain of salt? How long has it been—oh yeah, seventeen years? Second, I meant I loved your voice and that you were so happy and relaxed that you were singing, nothing in particular about the, um, quality. Or lack thereof,” He added, as an impish afterthought.

She swatted at his arm, but he was quick on his blade and opted to make a sharp turn, putting him out of Meryl’s vision. He did, however, do this all with his head rotated like an owl’s to ensure that her depth perception (or lack thereof) didn’t hinder their fun. 

The couple skated around the rink a few more times, Charlie following Meryl and subconsciously playing a game of ‘follow the leader’. She would lift her leg up and arabesque as all her weight shifted to her vertical leg, and Charlie attempted this, too. She would pivot and skate backwards, making exotic movements with her arms as she did so, and Charlie found that he was mirroring this, as well. He hoped that nobody [read: Jason Brown] was secretly watching this and filming it for some sort of a gag reel at the end of the tour. 

Eventually they collapsed on the chairs surrounding the ice (best seats in the house, they were told, upon seeing certain ticket prices and being appalled), breathing heavily, smiling like fools for no apparent reason.

It had pretty much been like this since the games in Sochi, a whirlwind of media and skating and Dancing with the Stars and then the coveted downtime (yes, this they considered downtime, despite Meryl being told explicitly to lounge and just absorb) where they would plop down in some intertwined position and marvel at the past series of months. 

The clock on Charlie’s wrist told them that it was one o’clock in the afternoon. All of a sudden, they were famished. Another telepathic conversation later, they had traded in skates for sandals and tights for shorts (in Meryl’s case at least…Charlie kept his tights on :D. Or, perhaps he just wore jeans the whole time, but that’s no fun) and departed on a walk towards the closest restaurant, a five minute trek to Red Robin, surprisingly nearby to the Giant Center. 

Nobody recognized them in this small town so many hours before the show, and while it was a nice change in pace from the constant photo opportunities that interrupted them, they also found it almost funny how oblivious some people could be. The duo represented the whole of America in the Olympics and the reactions they received were either of the two extremes: total indifference or total awe. They weren’t used to being celebrities, so this whole delving into focus and attention thing had been jarring, to say the least.

They placed their orders on suspiciously robotic screens (“Burger and side salad?” Charlie inquired, poised to put in Meryl’s preferences. “What else?” “Ugh, I’m so good, am I not?” “You really are due for a reality check, Charlie.” “Moi? Le gold medalist Charlie White?” “You know it offends me when you try to speak in other languages.” “Mer, we’re not all fluent in every tongue.” “Just the three, Charlie, just the three.”) 

After an unusually filling lunch, (“It’s thrilling!” She shrieked in delight. “I can eat what I want! I can eat—oh my gosh, Charlie, can we get dessert? I can’t remember the last time I had pie. Look, how quaint, they put ice cream on the top!” “Yes, Meryl, if you stop raving about crusted fruit we can get some.” “Don’t. Disrespect. The pie.” “Sorry, your highness. Or should I say—“ “Don’t even go there.” “Coming from little miss ‘cigars rhymes with stars’?” “That is clever, and those are both comprehensible words. Pie-ness is certainly not in the dictionary.” “Keep it up and I’m stealing all of the whipped cream on top…” “Get your own, White. I’m going to eat enough ‘crusted fruit’, as you call it, to make up for the last 17 years.” “Fine. I will.” [He ordered the Oreo cheesecake, and she rolled her eyes.) Charlie and Meryl, feeling scenic, walked along the abandoned Hershey theme park.

When the tour dates had been planned, Charlie had been ecstatic at the prospect of visiting the sweetest place on earth. Thus, his devastation was apparent when they were told that the park would still be closed from the winter. 

“But it’ll be April,” He said, exasperated. Meryl cooed, snaking her hand through his curls.

“I promise to take you back there and we’ll ride all of the rides when it opens, OK?”

“I guess,” He’d mumbled, but was secretly more excited. This could be their trip, just the two of them. He loved Gracie and Ashley and Jason and Jeremy and anybody else who would tag along on any given day, but he couldn’t imagine venturing up the kissing tower with the whole gang in tow.

No, that he would prefer stay between himself and Meryl. 

So, dejected, they walked alongside high fences and even higher rollercoaster tracks. (“Hey, do you think we could—“ “No, Charlie.” “But I didn’t even say anything yet,” he protested. “You were going to suggest climbing over the fence,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Why do you know me so well again?” There was no verbal response. Instead she laughed, and slipped his hands into hers, squeezing it as she pointedly steered him away from the park. “I always keep my promises, just remember that. This is not the last you’ll see of—what is it called?—the Fahrenheit. And really, if you have such a death wish, we can just sleep with our skates on or something. It doesn’t have to be so…public.” “A ninety-degree drop is survivable, I will have you know. And you promised to go on it with me!” “Damn. I did, didn’t I? Well, what do I get in return?”) 

The rest of the Stars On Ice crew had ordered pizza for their lunch and were comfortably sprawled on the bus that had driven them from the airport to the venue, opting to chill there over some fancy celebrity room in the Giant Center. Sure, they were stars, but that didn’t mean they needed royal treatment or anything. Plus, on the bus they could blast the radio without judgment. #SELFIE anyone? Yeah, Charlie was having loads of fun with that song (did it catch on? Did my constant hashing of the tags catch on?” “Stop trying to make it happen, Charlie, it’s not a thing that’s going to happen.” “OK, well, just you wait!” “With bated breath.” “You know, your sarcasm doesn’t well accompany your incredibly high-pitched tone.” “And your jokes don’t well accompany your general lack of interest to those around you.” “You pay attention to me…” “It’s hard not to. You’re always at my side!” “Shall I go, then?” “No, you idiot, stay!”) Somehow Meryl and Charlie, exhausted from their skating adventure and contented by their meal, ended up in a most compromising position, asleep. 

Meryl, scarily flexible and ballerina-esque, had been reclining with her legs directly in front of her, in a pike up against the next seat up’s back. Charlie’s head crossed over her body and rested on her left shoulder, though he occupied on the aisle seat. His arms, presumably thinking that her legs were the equivalent of her torso, were wrapped around her lower half and a silly smile was plastered on his face. This made for not only a fun bit of blackmail [Ashley’s, of course], but also a great photo to be printed out and placed mischievously into some of the nights’ programs. 

Upon hearing the latter, Meryl and Charlie were up in arms, fuming until all was forgotten as a game of Go Fish was offered by Jeremy as a peace offering. Clearly, they accepted. The skaters were still engaged in the heated card game when the tour manager knocked on the door and announced that it was time to get ready for meet and greets. Gradually, the athletes dispersed. Not Meryl and Charlie though—as an ice-dancing duo, they were considered one entity, and would be appearing together, as per usual. They wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“I sure hope the audience doesn’t see any video from the other dates, because I still find it unsettling that we make the same ambiguous comments night after night and they still cheer like nobody’s business.” Meryl commented, nervously, fiddling with her hair and slipping the uniform costume off over her head to replace it with the white dress she would wear for their Olympic exhibition program. Charlie found it hard not to stare, but there were other skaters in the room, just behind-the-scenes from the rink where pulsating music played and beams of light shot out from the ceiling.

Truth be told, it was harder and harder for Charlie to muster the focus he needed to skate serious programs with Meryl. They were Olympic gold medalists—come on, can’t they catch a break? And besides, people come for the entertainment value, right? Doesn’t that automatically mean ‘turn on the clown’? Meryl had patiently tried to explain that as the top athletes of their sport in the world at the current time, people might be interested in seeing the magic live without the pressure of a competition. Charlie, on the other hand, just wanted to dance [with Meryl]. 

But, fighter that he was, he got up and skated without a hitch, channeling intense emotions into gazes of love and a passionate embrace towards the end. The crowd went wild, literally, and when Meryl beamed, Charlie had to resist the urge to say something that would indulge their banter and prevent him from catching his cue for the next number, an all guy’s routine.

This was Meryl’s absolute favorite. Hands down, of all time, she’d never found anything more intriguing in so many ways. Where to begin? The song called for snapping a la West Side Story, some of Beyoncé’s moves from the whole Single Ladies fiasco (is anybody sensing a musical theme here?), and a sassy trick of the blade when floor-side viewers were treated to a spraying of icy shards. The boys would just sheepishly roll their heads. Meryl loved it, did she mention?

(“Finally, intermission. Hey, pass me that water bottle?” “What’s the magic word, Charlie?” “Dehydration?” “You are impossible. And I so cannot take you seriously in those neon leggings.” “Excuse me, but I believe the correct terminology is jeggings.” “Well, whatever they are, good luck trading them in for the Scheherazade costume in…oh…the next fifteen minutes?” “Drat. I mean, yay, Scheherazade…just as long as we don’t twizzle.” “I agreed to nix it, but you know how tickled fans would be to see us twizzle…” “And I would be tickled if they all laced up some skates and twizzled for us, but that just isn’t likely.” “Don’t be bitter. People are here to see us. Us! Can you imagine?” “Sure, I’m fabulous!” “Oh, knock it off.” “Still waiting on that water bottle, by the way.”)

The second part of the show was slightly longer but positively jam-packed with breathtakingly beautiful programs and, contrariwise, edgy and rousing skates. 

It was jumpstarted by the all girls’ dance, which Meryl loved and hated. Charlie just plain didn’t get it. When he first heard the song selection, actually, he was livid. 

“They want you to perform to what? Sorry, a song with self-deprecating lyrics about being weird and abnormal? That highlights insecurities about weight? Is this some sort of joke, an April fool, perhaps? Am I being punk’d?”

Meryl had calmed him down, soothingly reminding him that the message was an uplifting one, embracing differences. He still huffed occasionally, but was always so taken by her presence as leader of the pack. She was like a mom to all of the other girls, girls so gifted and yet they didn’t hold a candle to her grace and elegance. 

Scheherazade came and went, sans twizzles but including the inconceivable lifts and fiery passion that won them the gold in Sochi. All too soon the show had ended and Meryl and Charlie, so secretly giddy to have put on another perfect, flawless performance, let out a sigh of relief and danced like fools (freely, as Charlie requested of the choreographer. Between Marina/Igor and Dancing with the Stars, he wasn’t sure that his brain could handle any more step sequences without exploding) to, ironically, the song ‘Happy’. 

 

“Hey remember that time you and Sharna danced to this but Maks and I still crushed you?” Meryl teased as they took a victory lap around the rink as they watched people up and leave, satisfied by the spectacle before them. 

“Hey remember that time you’re tiny and I picked you up and refused to put you down until you take that comment back?”

“Wait, when was tha—Charlie, what are you doing? Young man, put me down this instant. OK, for real though, I can’t see anything but the purple material of this costume. And ew, I love dogs and you know it, and especially DJ, but maybe clean this thing once in a while? It’s sporting his hairs all over it and we’ve not properly seen him in, like, a week.”

“Yes, mother. As you wish.”

“Forgetting something, Princess Bride?”

“Oh. Yeah, right, that.” (He set her down. She glared, but not for long, because their piercing eyes met and electrically connected, altering the mood for the both of them.)

“Hey, Mer?”

“What is it? I’m sleepy,” she complained while they sauntered to the Hershey hotel where they’d be staying that night. (“Did you know they put a chocolate kiss on your pillow instead of mints? How cute is that? And the streetlights are shaped like kisses, too! Some are wrapped and silver and some are just bare—how cute is that?” “So, cute, Mer, so cute. Now get off of that travel site before I block it.” “I’m just trying to absorb some of the culture before—“ “It’s a state. One of fifty. In the United States, where we happen to also live. I’m pretty sure the biggest cultural difference we’ll encounter is the sharp drop in homosexuals present with tickets in good old Pennsyl-tucky.” “Who’s going to come to an ice skating show if not for the gays?” “Aren’t we going to Amish country? There will be lots of those folks…oh wait, never mind. Hey, good question! Guess we’ll find out tomorrow then?” “And that, Charlie, is why we get our facts beforehand. There’s no guessing and checking, just assimilating and applying.” “I think I caught your dyslexia, Mer, after that sentence.” “Good, then I’ll read to you instead. I know you leave out the descriptive parts because they bore you.” “Isn’t it your bedtime right about now?” “Ha. Nice try, but we’re in another time zone, thank you very much. Adjust your watch, maybe that will help.”)

“Did I ever mention that I’m really glad that we won? And we won together—and that we are together—and all of that? Because I am, if you’re wondering. And I’m not even just saying that so I can mooch some chocolate off of you later…but you know I’ll do that too.”

“Duly noted?”

“Kindly keep the sardonic from oozing out of your words, please. I’m trying to be all genuine and sentimental now. Is that not my role as supportive boyfriend?”

“Charlie,” Meryl yawned, climbing into their bed without so much as taking off her clothes or brushing her teeth. “You drive me crazy. And I love you. And it’s been a long day. Can we save some of the back-and-forth for tomorrow?”

There was no response, just the steady sound of Charlie breathing in and out and the rise and fall of his chest. She should’ve known. He always got to be sappy; incoherent when he was tired. Was it the cheesecake or the copious time on ice, she wondered, that made him so fatigued.

What she didn’t understand was that it was her that wore him out. But in a good way. She killed him, in a good way, naturally. He was drunk in love, and so tipsy was he all day that after it, he crashed into his hangover. The next day he’d just take to the bottle [read as: Meryl] again, sipping her in like a fine wine. 

But he really, really hoped that she’d drop the whole rapping thing. Who was this Beyoncé, anyway?

Maybe for their anniversary he’d humor her and choreograph a program to the song she was so enamored by. Or maybe, maybe, he’d settle for just dancing. With Meryl. 

(Of course his whole inebriation thing had better be long gone by tomorrow, Meryl thought as she drifted off to sleep. I secured us chocolate massages at the Hershey spa tomorrow, and I am not taking Maks! Goodness knows his masculinity would be threatened. Charlie’s gonna love it. He’d love pretty much anything I do, really. He’s so drunk in love, that one.)

Oh, it felt so good to be a star on the ice.

[Mental note: find out who Beyoncé is] – Charlie.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I've been adoring the fandom for some time now, and writing snippets but have yet to post anything...until now. I hope you liked it! It's a bit wordy towards the end, which is a testament to my Charlie-like tendencies to ramble, but still I hope it suffices. I've got more Meryl/Charlie in the works, if there's interest. And yes--I really did go to the Stars on Ice show in Hershey this past Thursday--(AMAZING if anybody's wondering. Breathtakingly beautiful and stunning and amusing to no end and how do you tear yourself away from something like that even when the lights come back on?!)--and I tried to make all of the little details as accurate as possible.
> 
> Disclaimed: I own nothing, and this story does not reflect reality whatsoever (except for the whole kisses-as-streetlights thing, because that is 100% real) :D


End file.
